Xander Potter
by stephenopolos
Summary: YAHF reversed, Xander goes from halloween to waking up in the cupboard under the stairs.
1. Chapter 1

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Xander woke to something loud pounding on the door and groggily sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"Up!" came the shrill screech of what he thought must be a banshee, before he heard footsteps walking and then the sound of a frying pan being put on the stove. He grumbled and pushed the blanket away sitting up only to bang his head on the stairs.

He winced and looked up, what was he doing in a small crawlspace underneath a staircase? He wondered. One moment he'd been leading a pack of children on the annual great quest for candy, and the next he was waking up here.

Carefully he felt around the room, before his hands hit a string hanging down in front of him. He gave it a tug hoping it was for an overhead light. Success! His spartan accommodations were revealed, beyond just the sliver of light that filtered in around the edge of the door.

Xander looked around in disgust. It was a depressingly small room; if what appeared to be a cupboard under the stairs could be called a room. The lady with the shrill voice was back at the door again.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Give me a moment," he called breathing heavily.

He doubled over as a sudden pain flared through his skull and he ran his fingers over his forehead instinctively to massage the pressure away. He ran his fingers through his hair and across his forehead, freezing in shock as he felt a jagged line.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddey's birthday."

That wasn't supposed to be there! His costume last night had a scar like that; but it was just makeup! The pain behind the scar kept building, until it felt like something released as the never quite healed scar burst open and he felt something wet drip down.

Xander groaned involuntarily.

"What did you say?" Petunia snapped through the door.

"Nothing, nothing..." All the while Xander wondered, _Duddey? What sorry excuse for a parent name's someone Duddey?_ A memory hit him of a fat spoiled brat of a kid, and he winced. The crazy shop owner, Evan... no, Ethan? That was it; Ethan had convinced him to go as a wand waving wizard. The guy had managed to talk him into accepting a vastly discounted costume of, a glasses wearing wizard, with a scarred forehead, he'd even given him a small character sheet with a basic background. He'd muttered something about it being a mockup costume for an author friend.

What was the character's name again? Harvy? Hammy? Harry! The pain in his forehead was starting to go away making it easier to think. He looked around the room again, and grabbed the blanket to wipe the ichor off his face and hands. But that character was older, he felt like he was in a body of about age nine or ten. Not fifteen years old.

He looked down, these were clearly not his hands. He forced himself to calm down and examine the room around him. He started looking for clothes, scowling in disapproval at the slightly oversized pair of pants and shirt. He found a pair of socks under the bed and after flinging a spider off one of them, put them on.

Opening the door to the cupboard he froze as he caught the reflection in the mirror, thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. The severity of the situation hit him like a train wreck. Something hellmouthy had happened, and now he wasn't even in his own body anymore. His eyes darted to his forehead and the vaguely lightning bolt shaped scar that had freshly scabbed over.

A large fat man, Xander labeled as Vernon, entered the kitchen as he was turning over the bacon.

"Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting, and Xander got the impression that this was a fairly regular occurrence.

He'd moved onto the eggs by the time Petunia reappeared in the kitchen behind what Xander immediately dubbed as a land-whale. Dudley looked alarmingly like his father, Vernon; he had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Altogether, 'Dudley' gave Xander the distinct impression of an overly large pig that someone had stuck a wig on.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, its here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face.

Xander, who could see a huge tantrum coming, was forcing himself not to pay any attention to what was obviously a spoiled brat. He had the urge to reach over and smack the kid, tell him he was a spoiled fat tub of lard who didn't appreciate the things he had in life.

Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that alright?"

The entertainment value, and his own instinctive self-preservation kept Xander's mouth firmly closed. Xander hoped this was all temporary and that he'd wake up back in his own body in Sunnydale, but for the sake of not ruining it for the kid whose body he was currently in, he would hold his peace. At least for now, if he was still here tomorrow him and Mrs. Dursley would be having words about the accommodations.

Xander looked up at Dudley as the other boy's face scrunched up in concentration. All that thinking must be such hard work, Xander snarked in his head, having to fight the sudden urge to smirk.

"So I'll have thirty... thirty..." the land-whale flailed at the number.

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," Mrs. Dursley provided.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

Xander heard the phone ring, but, was too busy watching as Dudley continued to make a mess on the floor, further lowering Xander's opinion of the boy with each present.

"Rotten news, Vernon," Petunia said as she re-entered the room. "That was Mrs. Figg; she's broken her leg and can't take him." She jerked her head in Xander's direction.

Dudley froze, mid rip, the wrapping paper in his hand falling to the ground. Xander just watched on unsure how to take the announcement. Petunia glared in his direction as though he had somehow planned this sudden change of events in her otherwise perfectly orchestrated life

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy." Petunia's tone conveyed the absurdity of the idea.

The name Mrs. Figg made him think of cabbage and cats for some reason. Xander pushed the topic to the back of his mind, doing his best to only pay enough attention for important details. He was drawn back to the conversation when Dudley began to cry, loudly, and in Xander's opinion obviously faked.

"I don't... want... him t-t-o come!" Xander watched in fascination as the boy yelled his protest in between huge pretend sobs. "He's going to ruin everything just like he always does." The land whale shot him a grin from beneath his mother's arms.

The tantrum was interrupted though by the sudden ring of the doorbell, and Dudley dashed off to answer the door as his mother paled and frantically exclaimed, "Dear lord, they're here." A moment later and Dudley walked back into the room pulling another boy and followed by his mother.

Half an hour later and Xander, who was slightly dreading this visit to the zoo, considering his last visit had saddled him with a head companion that had almost hurt his girls, was sitting in the back of the Dursley's car and pondering the weird cryptic warning Vernon had given.

"I'm warning you," Vernon had said his face inches from Xander's, "I'm warning you now, boy — any funny business, anything at all — and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

Xander just nodded in acceptance for the moment and resolved to have that talk about their treatment that much sooner; his green eyes glinting in a manner almost reminiscent of the green glow from the hyena.

The car ride was mostly silent though Vernon complained about the traffic and the places they passed, while Petunia's scathing commentary on the state of the neighborhood had ended a few short minutes after leaving Little Whinging.

Xander was wondering just what was wrong with this family, it was several minutes into the trip, as Vernon's complaints while fairly normal in most respects always seemed to find their way back towards the original owner of Xander's current body; at the moment he was going on about motorcycles: "…roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them. "Boy, if I ever catch you even thinking about riding one of those blasted things..." Xander ignored the rest of the admonishment.

And a memory of a dream hit Xander like a sack of bricks, he was staring up at the sky while the sound and feel of a motorcycle lulled him. He kept his mouth firmly shut.

Xander silently observed as Vernon was forced to buy him a frozen lemonade from the ice cream truck, because the lady in the van had asked what he wanted before Mrs. Dursley could shepherd them away. He could see there was something off about how the two adults treated Dudley and his host but he put it off as they walked through the zoo.

Walking through the lion exhibit, he froze mid bite as the hair on the back of his neck stood, slowly he turned around to see the lioness sitting on the other side of the glass.

He got the distinct impression that it was looking directly at him, and only him. Slowly the lioness lowered her head keeping her eyes centered on him. He slowly turned and walked back towards the Dursleys, every so often he'd turn to look back, and see the lioness was still watching him.

Spooked from the eerie behavior of the lioness, Xander didn't notice that they'd walked right into the observation point for the hyena enclosure. Hearing the laughter of the canines he froze. Feeling his legs and arms trembling he looked into the enclosure to see the hyenas too had frozen and were now looking at him. Only this time he felt like they were deferring to his presence.

"No..." he muttered. Feeling light headed, he pushed through the people to the next intersection and a bench to wait for the Dursleys. His frozen lemonade was starting to run, and the cold of the cup made his hand numb. Xander stared ahead and mechanically sipped the melted liquid from the cup.

By the time he saw the Dursleys it was time for lunch, where Vernon bought the cheapest item on the menu for Xander, and Dudley threw an embarrassing tantrum when his dessert wasn't big enough. Of course the remainder of Dudley's first dessert was pushed into Xander's hands, mainly because Vernon didn't believe in wasting, something he'd expounded upon at the time.

After lunch the Dursleys decided Xander would stick a little closer to them, Vernon muttering about the 'boy being trouble' and Dudley wanted to see the reptile house before they left. The inside was dimly lit and slightly damp with a clammy feeling, and all along the walls there were windows showing snakes and lizards of all sorts slithering over bits of wood and stone.

Xander shivered slightly, the place seriously wigged him out.

"Make it move," Dudley whined, drawing Xander's attention to the largest snake in the building. Vernon tapped on the glass, and Xander wondered for a moment if the large man's meaty knuckle would break the glass. But the snake didn't budge and the glass held firm.

Dudley complained about the snake being boring before shuffling off.

Xander slowly approached the exhibit holding the large snake, and heard the snake muttering, "Stupid two-leg, oh for a nice juicy rat."

Xander stepped back in shock. "You speak?"

"Some," the snake muttered in agreement.

"You're not a demon, are you?" Xander asked stupidly.

The snake looked directly at him, as if to imply contempt for even thinking the thought. "Right, just checking," Xander said hastily.

And suddenly he was knocked aside as Dudley's friend called them over with a shout. Xander rolled in reflex to the shove coming up a short distance from the cage. What happened next made him blink—Dudley was inside the cage and the snake was coiling around him, and commenting how it wasn't quite the juicy rat he wanted before sighing and continuing that he'd settle for scaring the boy and then let the servant that brought him food remove the pest from his cage.

Xander just huddled up against the far wall hyperventilating in response to all the strangeness throughout the day, and from the reactions of the Dursley family, this sort of thing was halfway expected even if it was feared, so it wasn't him but rather the person he'd replaced.

Since no one could explain just how the boy had gotten into the cage, and no harm had been done between boy and snake, the Dursley's couldn't do anything but yell for great lengths and with increasing volume about the potential safety hazard poor Dudley had been exposed to.

For the zoo though, it was Dudley's name that went on the list as a safety hazard. For them, the boy had somehow managed to slip past a locked door into a secure area for zoo employees only and then managed to get past a second secure lock into one of their more dangerous specimen in the snake exhibit.

Xander fought back a smirk as the Zoo employee at the snake exhibit had carefully removed Dudley from the snake's coils.

The ride home was made in complete silence, the only break in the tension when they dropped Dudley's friend off. As soon as they entered the door Vernon rounded on him, his face purple and shaking. "Cupboard... Now... No food."

Xander raised an eyebrow and with his own monosyllabic response, said, "No."

Vernon swung at him and Xander dodged raising his hands in a warding off gesture of defense as a golden shield formed in the air in front of him. He blinked as Vernon's fist grazed the field, the man stumbled back and yelped in shock as he held his arm his fingers now numb and unmoving.

"It's time we had a discussion Vermin," Xander intentionally mispronounced Vernon's name. "Living room I think." Petunia's face was white as she nodded and guided Vernon into the living room.

Dudley, however, didn't like the way this was going. It was his birthday and in his mind the freak had ruined it. He shook his head clear of the shock seeing, the freak disobey his dad, and attempted to sneak around the shield as they walked into the living room. Only the barest hint of a plan in his desire to whack Harry a good one for ruining his birthday.

Unfortunately for him, Dudley didn't appear to know the meaning of the word sneak, he was physically incapable of it, his heavy breathing and the weight of his feet on the floorboards announced his presence behind Xander just in time for the other boy to dodge the attempt.

Dudley found himself floating off the ground unable to move. Petunia squealed, "Duddy! put him down this instant you little freak!" she demanded.

Xander waved a hand and Dudley floated over to the couch and then dropped into the cushion, "Vernon, Petunia, I think it's time we had a chat about my living arrangements."


	2. Chapter 2

**Letters From No One**

The result of the day's events, left Xander confused, disturbed and probably more than a little scared. He was unnerved at how the universe seemingly broke when the Dursley's behavior finally reached a level that shattered his emotional control; while his parent's hadn't been the best, they certainly hadn't made him live in a cupboard under the stairs.

He rolled over and looked around at the room, wrinkling his nose. It was better than the tiny little cupboard he'd woken up in that morning, the large bed seemed comfortable enough. But, it wasn't his room, not really, it wasn't the room of Xander Harris, Sunnydale High's slacker and class clown. He paused for a moment and considered going back out and taking over Dudley's second bedroom, clearing the smaller bedroom would give him something to do. But, after a few moments, he decided that he didn't want to hear the heavier child whine.

Eventually, Xander decided that regardless of the decorations, the bedroom was better than the cupboard, it was practically palatial, compared to the cupboard. The walls where covered with a burgundy floral patterned wallpaper and there was a matching thick burgundy throw rug on the floor next to the bed. He fell asleep staring at the ceiling.

The next morning after the excitement and general shock over having magic had worn off, Xander started going over everything he'd learned in the past year about magic, including writing it all down using some scratch paper from the small roll top desk in the corner of the room.

Willow's cheat sheet was the first thing he tried to copy down from memory; he remembered trying them for a week or so, after Willow badgered him into it, before giving it up.

At the time he wasn't willing to sink the work into it, and given his general slacker attitude he figured he'd never be a Luke Skywalker. But, before he had given up, the closest he'd managed was rolling the pencil off the desk; though, he wasn't sure if that was him or just the angle of the desk.

Xander snorted at the memory, and looked back down at his notes only to blink in shock.

"What the hellmouth?" he exclaimed, one of the pencils he'd grabbed out of the holder dropped from it's slow rotation above the paper.

His thoughts were interrupted by Vernon pounding on the door. The Dursley male yelled, "Boy you will come out of that room and go to your cupboard!" He must have magicked the door closed the previous night, or the adult's had been too shocked to try anything while he'd been asleep.

Xander ignored the pounding on the door, which would become a regular occurrence for the days following his decision to take a proactive approach in improving his lot in this life.

By the third day, the confrontation with his newly appointed bedroom door had escalated to Vernon imitating a battering ram. The heavy impact of the older man's meaty shoulder upon the door saw the entire house shake and cracks form around the door frame.

"Of course it can't be simple," he groaned to himself as he looked up from the paper he'd snagged early that morning. His groan was from the date on the paper, which read, June 28th, 1991. Xander set the paper aside with an annoyed expression and walked over to the door. He calmly opened it and stepped aside as Vernon barreled into the room hit his head on the opposite wall, falling to the floor in surprise.

"If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was knock and ask politely," Xander said standing at Vernon's side as the larger man wobbled and slumped to the ground.

After a few moments of trying to get Vernon's attention, Xander hooked Vernon's arm over his shoulder and walked the dazed man out of the room.

He had a blessed two whole days of silence after that, before Vernon worked up the nerve to try again.

**~*XP*~*XP*~**

It was the first week of July, and the end of his first week with the Dursley's. After an hour of ignoring the shouted threats and pounding, Xander looked up from the small desk when the thud of Vernon's meaty fist slamming against the door was followed, by a pained shout, and a softer thud of the big man sitting down heavily in the hallway.

All along the wall there were tiny stress cracks from Vernon's battering. Xander calmly opened the door to find the man lying on the floor cradling his bruised and rapidly purpling fists. Xander reached down to examine his hands, pausing only for a moment in surprise when his hand started to glow and the bruises started to fade.

After that, the Dursley's tactics shifted from extraction to confinement. Not that Vernon was trying very hard anymore, or that it did them any good; as Xander ignored their efforts as he explored the neighborhood and his new surroundings.

The next morning Xander snorted as he caught a few lines here and there as the older Dursley's argued.

"Right then, if he wants the room, he can have it," Vernon growled in the kitchen, on the table before him was an electric drill, and a door latch kit from the local hardware store.

"What about Marge, darling?" Petunia asked.

"Dudley will just have to clean up the second bedroom," Vernon grumbled.

Xander ignored the sound of the drill until a few minutes later after he heard the car pulling out of the drive, and he tried the door. Frowned he placed a hand where the door frame and door met and pulled on the handle again with a primal growl.

There was a sharp, pinging noise, and the door flew open the latch dropping to the ground, one of the screws embedded into the wall opposite him.

Xander grabbed a bucket of paint, some sawdust and the wood glue from the garage and repaired the screw holes in the door.

When Vernon tried to screw the latch back into place that evening, he burned the motor in the drill, while the screw didn't even dent the paint.

The day after that, Xander tried magic laced suggestions on them at breakfast, feeling like he was trying to pull off a Jedi mind trick. While it worked for about an hour, it left a glassy eyed expression, and he could only handle one adult at a time. It was a crapshoot anyway as he didn't like the scummy, almost oily feeling it left him.

**~*XP*~*XP*~**

By the middle of the third week his actions hadn't gone unnoticed, and the conflict settled into an uncomfortable cold war. Petunia was arguing for putting 'the boy' back into the cupboard when Xander heard Vernon's booming voice.

"Oh, shut yer gob Petunia," Vernon growled. "We tried it your way. The boy spent almost ten years in a cupboard. Said we'd beat the freak out of him..." Vernon's rant trailed off at that point and curious as to what he meant Xander strained to listen, catching only a snatch of, "...cupboard for a bedroom..." and "...not normal..." but couldn't pick up the rest of what he said.

After Vernon's rant, all the Dursleys were walking on eggshells around him. Xander watched them with a guarded expression, if his attention wavered for a moment the situation could end up worse than how it started. Likewise, Dudley, at his mother's urging, was trying to stalk Xander's every move, looking for any opening to put his cousin back in the comfortable box he'd been confined to for the majority of Dudley's existence thus far.

**~*XP*~*XP*~**

The tension had continued to build by the fourth week of his stay, and the fuse on his temper was getting short. So far, he'd seen no evidence in the paper or at night of the darker side of his former life in Sunnydale. There had even been a few nights when he'd spent too long at the local library, much to his chagrin, researching the local mythology.

The first time he'd been locked out, he had panicked until he felt his magic flare and the lock click open for him to slip inside, after that unlocking the door seemed to slowly get easier.

The hostile atmosphere with the Dursley's was fraying his nerves, he was twitching at every shadow and the slightest sound. While it was possible for him to magically order them around like puppets on a string, doing so would make him want to scrub his skin raw to rid himself of the oily feeling, and he'd be exhausted in the process.

After a particularly tense confrontation with the younger Dursley, he decided to attempt one of the more basic rituals he remembered and call upon Apollo to bless the house, and hopefully get a little peace. He had double checked the prayer with a book from the local library on roman mythology, the librarian had looked at him skeptically when he'd asked for the book. The generic form of the ritual had been copied from the book and then carefully modified based on his memories. A lot of this he was making up, half remembered from Giles' books.

Xander drew a line with the table salt he'd nicked from the kitchen pantry, and muttered a small prayer to Mercury thanking him for the easy procurement. When he reached the end he almost dropped the container in shock when the salt shifted and hardened into a circle of solid white salt crystal.

Xander stepped over the circle of salt crystal and everything went quiet. The sounds of the house and street outside were muffled, and he had a feeling that it was the same way on the other side of the circle for what went on within.

Carefully he lit the candles and began his prayer. Within moments a warm breeze stirred around him carrying the quiet strumming of a guitar and laughter. On the altar before him he placed a small container of sunflower seeds he'd picked up from the garden center Petunia frequented and a small slice of pound cake and a glass of lemonade. Maybe not a traditional offering to the sun, but it was offered to the sun god in summer.

The guitar music grew louder as he finished the prayer, he blinked as the offering vanished leaving the container behind. A moment later an intense pressure filled the space he was sitting in and the breeze died away, the music stopping but the feeling of sun on his skin kept getting stronger, almost to the point it was unbearable, any longer and he felt as though he'd be a giant walking sunburn. Then the circle dissolved and the intense heat faded away with a blast of warm air that flooded the room and blew the bedroom door open as it went throughout the house touching every room before swirling around the yard and dissipating.

Downstairs, Petunia placed breakfast on the table and called the everyone down, not even noticing she'd called all of them including yelling for Xander even if she called for him by the name of Harry instead.

She informed him that she was taking Dudley into London to pick up his school uniform and she'd spoken with Mrs. Figg down the street if he'd like to stay there.

Shrugging Xander went along with the plan. It turned out the day he'd arrived, she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and given the frosty glares he kept catching her give them, it was obvious the she was no longer feeling quite as charitable towards them.

He felt awkward trying to interact with the elderly lady, and the cats were giving him the wiggins, but she let him watch TV, and while the chocolate cake tasted stale he wasn't one to turn down sweets. He had a brief moment of insalubrity while eating the cake, as he pined after his beloved Twinkies.

Vernon still didn't like him, but he was resigned to the situation. Dudley had given up, and spent most of his time with his little gang of delinquents harassing easier marks. While Petunia still gave him the occasional evil eye and tried to order him around.

**~*XP*~*XP*~**

By the time Xander yawned and rolled out of bed on the fifth week, he had just about come to terms with the situation. While he had hope that his friends would find him and switch him back, he was settling in for a prolonged campaign. The local newspaper didn't inspire confidence, proclaiming the year to be 1991, and he was still here stuck in the body of an eleven year old with weird magic abilities. Of course, what he didn't know about the situation would be revealed shortly.

On this particular morning, Xander was greeted by a horrible smell as he entered the kitchen. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink.

"What's that?" he asked, eyeing the tub which was full of what looked like rags floating in dirty gray water.

Petunia frowned as though trying to remember something before she spoke, "I'm dying some of Dudley's old things gray. But I may have to give it up for a loss and just get you a new uniform."

The Dursley males entered the room and wrinkled their noses at the smell. Vernon opened his newspaper while Dudley reached with a fork to pull some food onto his plate from the serving dish in the center of the table.

A few minutes into breakfast, they heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters onto the doormat.

"Harry, be a dear and get the mail would you?" Petunia asked absentmindedly before returning to her quiet conversation about the Lady next door.

Xander grumbled a bit before deciding it wasn't worth it to argue and went to get the mail.

Four things were lying on the doormat: a postcard from Vernon's sister Marge, who was apparently vacationing somewhere named the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked very much like a bill, something from Dudley's new school and – a letter addressed to Harry.

Xander frowned, the letter itself wasn't all that odd aside from being addressed to an apparent ten going on eleven year old. What made it stand out to him was the clearly written green ink on the front:

Mr. H Potter

The guest bedroom at the end of the hallway.

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

He scowled at the precision of the letter and tucked the odd envelope under his waistband in the back and then slipping his shirt over it.

Xander walked back into the kitchen and placed the mail on the table next to Mr. Dursley before retaking his seat. Methodically chewing through the rest of his breakfast.

"Marge's ill," Vernon informed Petunia as he examined the mail, snorting at the bill.

Xander excused himself retreating back up the stairs to his room to open the envelope.

He stared incredulously at the emerald green ink on the yellowing parchment. What the dickens was Hogwarts, it sounded like some sort of disease, and who was Albus Dumbledore and why did he need so many titles behind his name.

He blinked at the greeting: Dear Mr. Potter... pleased to inform... witchcraft... wizardry.

Was he interested? Free training? All the supernatural powers and abilities in the world at his fingertips just for attending a school run by an oddly named guy with too many titles? Damn straight he was interested!

Await his owl no later than July 31? How the devil was he supposed to get an owl?

Xander paused for a moment and looked back through the letter. Minerva, goddess of wisdom, and the owl, a creature generally associated with having wisdom.

Xander stopped and set the letter down, wondering if Apollo dropped her a line after answering the ritual.


End file.
